


don't worry, i'll keep you warm

by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)



Series: i never knew anybody til' i knew you [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, H/C bingo, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pre-Slash, Sickfic, hurt/comfort bingo, set shortly after the bookshop opened in the 1800s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 13:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahyperactiverhero/pseuds/ahyperactivehero
Summary: Set shortly after Aziraphale opens his bookshop in the 1800s. Crowley gets drunk and the pub and decides that Aziraphale could use a gift and a visit from him. Too bad it's snowing and he's never done particularly well with the cold.Based on the h/c bingo I'm doing on my tumblr.





	don't worry, i'll keep you warm

Crowley scowled at the outside world through the window of the pub he was drinking at. Big white flakes of snow were falling from the sky, covering everything his eyes could see. There had already been ice on the ground for several days now, but the snow was new.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath. He took another swig from the drink he had ordered and turned away from the window. The room was fairly full, most of the patrons coming in to try and get a little bit of warmth before they headed back out into the cold on their way home.

There was a lot of tempting that a demon could do in a pub. All he really had to do was increase the strength of the alcohol they were consuming, have something mysteriously spill on someone, or just hint that someone had been saying something bad about someone else and humans would take care of the rest. They were such a chaotic species.

And he loved them for that.

He didn’t feel like messing with any humans today though. Downstairs had been rather lenient with him recently, and not checking in nearly as often as they had had even a few centuries before. It had been months since he’d seen even Hastur.

A young lady at the bar smiled at him, which he returned with almost bared teeth. He wasn’t looking for company, and even if he was, it wouldn’t have been with her.

He turned back around, looking at the snow falling, and shivered. He hated the cold. Due to his snake-ish nature and the fact that he was accustomed to Hellfire he wasn’t exactly able to properly regulate his body temperature in the cold winter.

Normally, if he didn’t have any duties to attend to, he’d go to sleep. He’d slept through a whole century once, he was sure that he could manage to sleep through a couple of months until it was warm again.

But he’d been bored and rather lonely lately. While he’d never been a big fan of anyone in Hell, it did leave him feeling a little isolated to be cut off from them.

Then there was the person he really wanted to be with. Well, not so much a person, as an angel. 

But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to visit him. There was no need for The Arrangement, no deeds to rub in his face and make him chastise him for, there was basically no reason at all for him to miss Aziraphale or even want to contact him.

And yet here he was. Drinking alone and thinking about which way led to his bookshop. He hadn’t had his bookshop very long, but Crowley knew that Aziraphale was in love with it, and that if the angel was anywhere on Earth, he’d be there.

He shook his head and reached up under his glasses to rub his eyes. He was just so tired. Tired of being alone, of doing the same thing all the time, of being _cold_.

He glared out at the snow that was quickly gathering outside. A couple rushed out, their arms linked as the man led the women through the snow. They looked so in love as they hurried down the street. Cold air settled around him from the door, despite the fire that was going in the corner. 

He downed his drink, losing count of how many he’d already had that evening. It wasn’t like it really mattered, he could always flush it from his system and sober up quick if he wanted to. Not that he actually wanted to, mind you. He quite enjoyed being drunk, thank you very much.

With the help of a few demonic “miracles” and an inattentive bartender, he was able to have a few more drinks before heading out. He sneaked a bottle into his oversized coat, planning to at least have a gift for Aziraphale to make up for his unannounced appearance. 

The snow seemed to be bound and determined to stick around, mounds and drifts of it piling at every turn. He grumbled as he set off towards Aziraphale’s bookshop. He knew that when he got there there would be a roaring fire, warm drinks, and of course the angel that had spent far too much time on his mind recently.

He’d known for forever that he loved him. There was no way that Crowley could deny that, at least not to himself, but that didn’t mean that it was an easy thing to admit. Aziraphale was so...so pure, that it felt wrong to even admit that he had been around him, much less the fact that he was in actual love with him.

And he didn’t mean pure in the angelic way, although he supposed that part was true. The angel was just a genuinely good being, who always wanted to help out, even when it was a down demon like Crowley.

But there was also the other side of him, the side that had agreed to The Arrangement, the side that could come up with some demon deeds worse than Hastur or Ligur’s, and while he never acted on them it still made Crowley weak just thinking of them. His angel was a genius, and he wanted everyone, especially Aziraphale, to know it.

He smiled to himself, thinking about the angel. It hadn’t been too long since he’d last seen him, but it felt like ages. And Crowley knew exactly what ages without seeing Aziraphale felt like.

He stumbled, his foot slipping on some of the ice that had gathered on the path. Snow was the only thing there to catch him as he crashed down, his coat immediately getting soaked through, as well as his trousers. 

A few choice words fell from his lips as he climbed back up to his feet. A shiver made its way down his spine as he brushed the snow off of himself. What he wouldn’t give to have the sun again.

Crowley reached into his coat, patting the bottle of alcohol. It was perfectly fine, thank Satan. He slid it out, looking at the bottle. Well, surely Aziraphale wouldn’t mind if he had just a taste of his gift.

The cork came out relatively easy as he took a drink. It wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but it would do in a pinch he supposed.

Slowly, he began to trudge through the snow again. Was the walk to Aziraphale’s bookshop usually this long? He thought that it had just been down the road, but if that was the case he should have already been there. And when had he taken a turn?

“Fuck,” he spat out. How the Heaven could he be lost? He’d lived in this city for forever!

But the buildings were moving now, shifting like they were a fleet of pirate ships. And Crowley should know, as he’d spent a good amount of time on pirate ships before.

Plus it was cold. It was so _damn cold_. Who had decided that London winters were to be this cold? Had that been an angel or a demon thing? He liked to think that a demon would’ve never done that to themselves, but then he remembered that demons frequently liked to fuck each other over.

“Fuck,” he repeated, although there was a lot less fire to this one. 

He glanced around but nothing seemed familiar. Probably because the buildings were still moving. He closed his eyes and sat down on the path, leaning his back up against the nearest building. The snow and ice immediately finishing soaking into his clothes but Crowley barely noticed. It was already so cold it couldn’t have _really_ made a difference.

He sat there, watching the few people that were left out on the streets hurry home. A few of them glanced at him but they didn’t seem to be inclined to help him. Faintly, he wondered if he had anything to do with that, if the presence of a demon had made people colder towards each other.

_“Don’t be stupid,”_ he thought, _“Aziraphale cancels you out.”_

It seemed to get colder at the mention of the angel, although Crowley was sure that was all in his head. He pulled up his coat to shield his face just a bit more from the frigid air. The snow drifts were almost like short walls next to him, walls that if he really wanted to make an effort to do so could be used to block the wind.

_“Just like a snake in it’s hole,”_ Crowley thought bitterly. _“How ironic.”_

But at least it was warmer like this. Or at least it seemed to be. The winter wind couldn’t exactly reach him. Now, if he could just find a position comfortable enough he might rest here a bit, just for a few moments.

His eyes slid shut. The last thing he heard was his name being called, surprise and panic seeping into it.

XXX

It wasn’t exactly the winter that Aziraphale disliked, but rather the result of it. Food could die in a bad frost, people lost their lives and limbs, and most of the wild life seemed to disappear. None of these sounded like good things to Aziraphale, although he imagined the Other Side loved this time of year.

He adjusted his grip on the books he was carrying under his arm, hiking them up a little bit higher so as to avoid the slurry forming on the ground. The last thing he wanted to do was get anything on his books, even if he never sold any of them, which he was finding out was likely to happen. If he sold them, then he wouldn’t have them, and that simply wouldn’t do.

Up ahead he noticed a figure balled up in the snow. It was leaning against a building, with snow gathered all around and on top of it. He’d seen many humans like this before, people who were homeless, desperate, and unlikely to make it until morning on the worst winter nights.

He raised his hand, thinking about the warmth he could provide the man. Giving the man enough warmth to last the night would be easy, and it would be such a small miracle that it wasn’t likely to be noticed by Heaven. And if it was he could always justify it by saying that he had done it to save the man. Surely, they would understand the fact that he was trying to save a human…

There was something in the air that stopped him though, something familiar. It was a strange presence, something that angels shouldn’t be familiar with. 

A demon was nearby.

He paused, wondering where the demon was hiding. He was used to Crowley being nearby, as even when they weren’t talking to each other they tended to bump into each other, but he didn’t even see the demon anywhere. Was it possible that he was in one of the nearby buildings? 

He shook his head. What did it matter if the demon was nearby? It’s not like he particularly needed to see the demon as there was nothing that needed to be arranged, nor did he really want to get mixed up in whatever havoc the demon was likely causing.

But he couldn’t deny the ache that went through him at the thought of missing the demon. It made him feel ashamed to admit it, but the thought of missing him actually upset him, no matter how unangel-like it was.

He stared at the man, trying to send the warmest thoughts he could when he noticed something a bit off about the man. He was wearing dark glasses over his face, despite the fact that it was nearly dark now, and his hair was very distinctive…

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called out. He lowered his hand, staring at the demon in confusion. Was this supposed to be a joke? He had to admit that he didn’t usually get all of the demon’s jokes, nor did he fully understand all the ways one might tempt a human, but it didn’t seem like the demon was doing any of those.

Instead, he was just huddled down in the snow, like he was going to take a nap right there on the sidewalk. He didn’t even respond when Aziraphale called his name.

“Crowley?” he asked again, hurrying towards his friend. Crowley always responded. He lived to annoy and pester Aziraphale, there was no way that he would pass up the opportunity to do so. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” he asked, crouching down next to him. He reached out, his hand barely grazing against the skin of his face. It was cold, far colder than he had ever felt the demon before. Not that he often felt the demon, that was, but he did know that he tended to run about the same temperature as most humans, or so it seemed. So it was definitely concerning to feel his skin and barely notice a difference between it and the ice around them.

“Crowley!” he said, his voice far sharper now. He placed to books down rather quickly, trying to avoid most of the slush but doubting that he had entirely succeeded. 

He grabbed the demon’s face in his hands, moving it until it was titled up in his direction. If Crowley opened his eyes, he would be staring right into Aziraphale’s. Yet he didn’t. His eyes remained stubbornly shut, his mouth lax like he was….

_No_ , Aziraphale thought and shook himself like it might dispel it. There was no way that Crowley was actually dead.Firstly, it would take far more than the cold to actually kill him, as his body would likely just discorperate and his essence would be sent back to Hell. Secondly, he could still see the rise and fall of the demon’s chest, his breath barely even stirring the air in front of him with a tiny fog.

“What have you done?” Aziraphale asked. He brushed the demon’s hair back, trying to see if there were any wounds on him. It was possible that he might have run across some other angels who were not quite as… agreeing to demons as Aziraphale was. Or maybe it had been other demons. Crowley did have a way of pissing absolutely everyone off when he wanted to.

But there didn’t seem to be any blood on him, nor did Aziraphale sense any broken bones. It seemed like he was just… cold. _Extremely_ cold, but just cold nonetheless.

“Right, this is fine,” Aziraphale said, although he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring the unconscious demon or himself. He snatched up his books from the ground, ignoring the fact that the bottom one was likely ruined, and leaned forward until he was almost hovering over Crowley. He wrapped his hand around Crowley’s, which had been buried deep within the pockets of his coat, and thought about the bookshop.

It took less than a second for them to materialize there. It wasn’t exactly an easy miracle to do, nor was it one Aziraphale liked to do considering Heaven frequently saw it as “frivolous” and wrote him up for it, but he figured that he’d make an exception this time. There would’ve been no way he could have carried both Crowley and his books several streets down to his bookshop himself without some sort of miracle, so he figured he might as well at least go all in.

He placed the books on one of the tables before turning back to Crowley. He was just laying there, still as could be, not even shivering despite the fact that he was basically an ice icicle. The fireplace across the room soon roared to life after he snapped his fingers, the warmth quickly seeping into the room. If it was helped along by a little bit of angel magic there was no one around to exactly call him on it at the moment.

“Crowley?” he asked as he knelt down next to him. Slowly, he took off the demon’s glasses, taking great care to place them safely on a bookcase so as to be sure nothing would happen to them. Even if Crowley could just fix them or miracle himself up another pair, he knew the demon would still be mad if they were damaged.

“I need to get you out of these wet clothes, alright?” he asked, not exactly expecting a response. So far he had been unresponsive, which was pretty much exactly how Aziraphale expected him to stay, even if he didn’t like it.

Crowley lived to surprise people, however.

“Az,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Zira?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Aziraphale said, his voice short and slightly up beat. He didn’t want to let Crowley know exactly how much he was worrying him. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Crowley glanced around the bookshop, his eyes rolling almost seemingly against his will. Eventually they rolled back around and landed on the angel.

“Hey, I made it,” he said, his words slurring and soft. “I knew I _wasssn’t lossst_. Exactly where I _wasss_ meant to be going.”

Aziraphale didn’t comment on the hisses that were slipping through. All that ever did was rile him up. “You were trying to come here? Why?” he asked. HIs hands moved as he asked, taking Crowley’s hat from his head and doing his best to try and slid his wet shoes from his feet. They were soaked completely through and the thought of frostbite and hypothermia and every other potentially fatal things humans could contract from the cold popped into his head.

“ _Caussse_ you’re my _bessst_ friend,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world and was amazed Aziraphale hadn’t picked up on it. “Can’t a friend stop in and see his old friend?”

Aziraphale worked on removing the demon’s socks as well. He opened his mouth to point out that they _weren’t_ friends, and even if angels and demons stopped in to just see each other like this they usually didn’t end up like _this_.

“Besides,” Crowley said. One of his arms began to flop around, almost smacking Aziraphale in the head. He reached out, intent on stopping him from moving, but gave up when he began reaching inside his coat. “I got you something.”

He pulled out a bottle of wine. It wasn’t anything that could be considered “good”, but then again he and Crowley had certainly drank worse things in their life. 

“Oh,” he said, not quite sure what to say. He glanced closer at the bottle, noticing the small amount that was gone. “Did you drink some of this?” 

Crowley’s face squished up and moved from side to side just a bit like he was trying to downplay it. “Well, it was cold when I left the pub and it made me feel warm.”

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment, resisting every urge within him that wanted to curse. “You do know that alcohol actually makes it harder for you to stay warm, right? It is a terrible thing to drink when it’s as cold as it is outside.”

Crowley, who had apparently grown tired of sitting up, flopping back onto Aziraphale’s carpet. “It made me feel warm. Made me think of you,” he paused, as though he wasn’t sure he should really stop there. “-’ts why I came here. To give you a gift!”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale said, his face heating up. “It’s quite, um, nice.”

Normally, Crowley would sneer at him, inform him that he was a demon and he didn’t do “nice”. But this wasn’t Crowley at his best. This was a sick Crowley, who was already drunk and close to discorperating. 

“It’s cold,” Crowley said. He tried to move his arms again, only to give up before he’d successfully lifted even one. “Thought it’d be warmer. You’re always warm.”

The room must have been heating up because Aziraphale felt like there was a fire on his face. “Yes, well,” he said, setting about getting Crowley’s coat off. “We’ll get you warmed up here soon enough.”

It was far more difficult than it probably should have been, due to the fact that Crowley didn’t seem capable of moving any of his limbs the way that he should have been able to. With more than a considerable amount of effort Aziraphale managed to wrestle the coat off, staring down at the demon laying on the floor. 

“Can you, that is to say, do you think you could get up to change out of those wet clothes?” Aziraphale asked, gesturing down to the shirt and trousers that he still wore. Even though he could take them off for the demon it felt wrong, like it was somehow an invasion of privacy to do so.

“Uh, um, yeah,” he said. His hand flopped around limply, his fingers attempting to snap. “Just- just let me- let me think.”

It was almost pitiful to see him lying there, the simple task of snapping his fingers almost too much for him. He rolled his eyes Heavenward and bit his lip. “Oh, well,” he said. “What’s one more miracle?” And with that he snapped his fingers and Crowley’s clothes were gone, instead replaced with a pair of dry sleep clothes.

“Oh!” Crowley said. He squirmed around on the floor for a second, almost like a snake seeking a hole to burrow into. “Thank you.”

Aziraphale brushed it off. “Don’t.” He reached down and grabbed a hold of one of his arms and helped lever him into a seated position. “Let’s get you closer to the fire,” he said.

With more effort than it should have taken, they finally managed to reach the couch closest to the fireplace. It was one the Crowley was familiar with, having spent a good chunk of the time he’d spent in Aziraphale’s bookshop lying on it. His lanky body was just a bit too long to stretch out fully on it, but he never seemed to mind.

“There you are, my dear,” he said, dropping him down into the cushions. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and set about tucking it around Crowley, taking care to make sure his feet were also inside the bundle. 

Yellow eyes followed him as he did so, finally seeming to focus on him. It seemed like the demon wanted to say something, and Aziraphale certainly did, but if he wasn’t going to say anything then neither was he. 

“What exactly happened?” he asked once he was satisfied Crowley was properly covered. He looked like a giant toddler being swaddled in blankets by his mother, with blankets piled all around him and the couch pushed as close to the fire as it was safe to have it.

Crowley shrugged. “I told you. I wanted to come here,” he said.

“I got that,” Aziraphale said, just barely holding back the bite in his tone. “What I don’t get is how you ended up passed out in the streets.”

Crowley’s eyes flickered to the window where the snow was still coming down. “I don’t handle the cold well,” he said.

Aziraphale followed his eyes, noticing how much snow had fallen just since they’d been back. He of course knew that it had been snowing on and off for the last few days, although most of it had been ice and sleet rather than the large, fluffy flakes that were currently falling outside.

“Right,” Aziraphale said. He turned back around and made eye contact with Crowley, taking in his yellow eyes. “The whole,” he waved his hand through the air. “snake thing.”

Crowley snorted. “Yeah, the whole ‘snake thing’.” He snuggled down even lower into the blankets until only his eyes were visible.

“Right,” Aziraphale repeated. “I’ll get some tea for us,” he said, not knowing exactly what else to do in the situation, but he was nothing if not polite and living around British people had told him that the answer was often tea, or at least it would be a good place to start.

Crowley rolled his eyes at the angel but said nothing to protest it. 

It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to make some tea the old fashioned human way. While Crowley might scoff at it, Aziraphale truly did like making tea this way. And, while he wasn’t quite as good at it, he enjoyed making food that way, too.

“Here,” he said as he walked back over to the couch. “I made it just the way you like it.”

He held the cup out but Crowley never reached back for it. A feeling similar to worry wormed itself deep into Aziraphale’s stomach as he leaned down, peering into Crowley’s blanket pile.

Crowley had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed, his face turned just enough towards the fire to make it obvious his body was still seeking the heat.

“Very well then,” Aziraphale said. He placed the tea on the table next to him and set about putting things away. He picked up Crowley’s wet socks and shoes and moved them until they were close enough to the fire that they would dry out. He also moved his coat to the coat rack, in the hopes that it might dry out as well. If it wasn’t dry by morning, he might have to work a little miracle on it.

After he’d squared away Crowley’s things he worked on putting up his own. He looked at the books he’d tossed on the table and left, finally having a moment to inspect them. It was exactly like he thought it would be, the book on the bottom had been absolutely ruined due to the snow. 

It’s not like it was a big deal, not really, but it made him sad nonetheless. He glanced back over to Crowley, who was sleeping away on the couch and sighed. 

He supposed there were worse things in life than a single ruined book.

XXX

The first thing Crowley noticed was the fact that he was warm. And not just _warm_ in his physical body, but also warm in his demonic soul. It was a strange thing to feel, as most demons didn’t experience the warmth of kindness or appreciation or lo-

Quickly, he sat up and opened his eyes. He was inside Aziraphale’s bookshop, laid out on his couch. There was more than one blanket piled on top of him, trapping any and all heat and holding it close to his body.

His eyes landed on the cup of tea that was sitting on the side table. It was hot, steam blowing from it, and Crowley could feel some faint angelic magic on it, which told him that it was likely only still hot due to Aziraphale.

He looked around the room, trying to think back to how he had gotten there. He’d been on his way, he could remember that much, but he knew he hadn’t made it there before the cold had gotten a hold of him. So how exactly had he…

He looked around, his eyes landing on a pile of books on Aziraphale’s desk. One of them was so waterlogged it was almost impossible to read. It would take a miracle to fix it.

Or something close to one anyways.

He snapped his fingers and watched as the water fled from the pages and the ink righted itself. It was the least he could do to say thank you for all his help.

He walked back over to the fireplace and quickly put on his socks and shoes. There was a nice, warm feeling hovering inside him, something that he knew could only be felt with his essence. It was lovely and beautiful and wonderful, but also painful because he knew that it wasn’t what he wanted it to be.

He loved Aziraphale. Had basically loved him since the first moment they met (and if it wasn’t then, it certainly would’ve been in Rome when he had tried to _tempt_ him), but he knew that the angel didn’t love him back. Not in the way that he hoped, like couples did with the romance and affection, but more in the way angels were supposed to love all creatures (even if that seemed to be a trait unique to Aziraphale alone).

So while he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with him, he knew that it was probably best for him to be going. His heart wouldn’t be able to stand the feelings of love that he knew weren’t meant to be interpreted the way he was hoping.

His stumbled over himself in his haste to magic himself into some more appropriate clothes. The brief thought that it must have been Aziraphale who had dressed him crossed his mind and caused a blush to spread over his cheeks before it occurred to him that Aziraphale had likely just miracled him a pair of fresh clothes. It did nothing to stop the heat from flooding his face again, as well as the strange twisting feeling inside of him, however.

He turned towards the tea sitting on the table, debating if he should leave it or not. It would waste time that he didn’t exactly have for his escape, but at the same time he couldn’t just _leave_ it there. Aziraphale had went through so much work for him that it would be rude to just brush that off.

Without even hesitating, he picked the cup up and gulped it down. It was hot, but he did it anyways, drinking until there was nothing left.

Once that was done he placed the cup back on the table and headed towards the door. He could hear someone (more than likely Aziraphale) moving around in the room next to him. Before they could say anything, he snapped his fingers towards the deks, and was bundled up in his coat and out the door. 

It would be much easier to get home now that he wasn’t drunk and love-sick.

XXX

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called into the room. He was fairly certain that he’d heard the door to the bookshop, although that shouldn’t have been possible. He’d made sure that it was locked with a closed sign on it. No one should have been able to get in.

The room was empty when he walked in, the couch still filled with covers but empty of demons. Crowley’s coat was gone, too, he noted.

So someone got out, then.

“Goodness,” Aziraphale said and sighed. He didn’t know what sort of state the demon was in, for all he knew he was stumbling around like some drunken, sick mess through the streets. Which was the last thing he needed to be doing, considering he’d just gotten over being sick in the first place.

Aziraphale headed towards the door, intent on putting his coat on as well to go and find the idiot, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

The books that had been sitting on his desk were fine. Better than fine, they were perfect. It was like the snow and ice had never touched them at all.

_‘It’s the least I could do,’_ read a note setting on top of the books. 

He felt a smile come to his lips. See, he’d always known the demon had some kindness in him, even when he pretended not to. It was just hard to find due to the act he liked to pull most of the time.

He also noticed that the tea he’d set out was gone, as well as all of Crowley’s clothes. At least he’d remembered to bundle up again.

In a little while he’d venture out and go over to Crowley’s place, just to make sure that he had really made it home safely. He’d use something vague, like asking him questions about work or where he’d gotten that wine from last night, because it had been amazing (it really hadn’t been, in fact it was disgusting, but he could pretend for Crowley’s sake).

But he’d do it just the same, because he knew that Crowley’d do the same for him. And if he happened to bring over some warmer clothes because they weren’t quite his style or color, well, neither one of them would mention it.

Anything to keep the demon warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, everybody! I hope you enjoyed the fic! The title is based on some lyrics from I'll Follow You Down by Shinedown, which seems to be a great Ineffable Husbands song! Just like the last one, this was part of my hurt/comfort bingo over on a hyperactivehero on tumblr. Come visit me over there and freak out about Good Omens with me!


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